She was almost ready to scream.

It amazed Sadie how quickly she hadgrown accustomed to sleeping with Morgan. And as she set up their new camp, she thought again about her decision to pretend to be Morgan’s wife for the week. Had she managed to sabotage her heart, making it impossible to walk away in six days?

For the first time since the fire eight years ago, Sadie had the hope of a future that included a husband, children, and a cozy home of her own. If nothing else—if she did have to walk away at the end of the week—Morgan had returned that possibility to her.

He had made her realize that the fire may have taken half her family, but it had not taken her future.

She could still hope.

She could still dream.

She could still love.

But could shebe loved?

Sadie finished spreading out their sleeping bag and stretched out on it and stared up at the tops of the trees. Morgan hadn’t once mentioned the wordlove, for all his peculiar vocabulary. Sadie dismissed the fact that she hadn’t exactly brought the word up, either.

He was the one talking about marriage; he should be the first one to say it.

He acted possessive, like a caring husband.

He worried about her safety.

And healmost enjoyed having sex with her.

Sadie touched the fingers of her right hand together, feeling leather touch leather. Would hecompletely enjoy their lovemaking if she had no scars? What would it be like, to go to Morgan fully naked, flawless, and beautiful?

Would he say the words to her then?

I love you.

Sadie closed her eyes and let her escaping breath turn into a smile, letting those three little words echo though her mind like a promise. And she decided then that she was not walking away from Morgan MacKeage in five days.

Sadie woke with a start,unable to orient herself for several seconds. As the treetops towering over her head came into focus, she realized that she’d fallen asleep. Feeling a bit embarrassed for having a nap in the middle of the day, she sat up and scanned the area for Morgan.

He was nowhere to be seen. Sadie decided this was her chance to have a bath while she still had some privacy. She gathered her toiletries and some clean clothes and looked around the logging camp. There had to be a water source nearby, a spring or a small brook. She hadn’t seen any signs of a dug well during her exploration of the camp earlier.

She headed into the forest, hiking north along the west side of Fraser Mountain, figuring that if she walked far enough, she would eventually run into a stream.

She ran into Morgan instead.

He stepped from behind an outcropping of ledge and used his impressive body to block her path. Sadie’s heart started to race at the sight of him. He was so incredibly handsome. So large and solid. And so damned sexy, standing there like a god of the woods.

She smiled at him.

He didn’t smile back.

“I stink,” she said, her smile rising a notch at the incredible look he gave her. “And I’m not kissing you until I wash my hair and change into clothes that can’t stand up by themselves.”

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t care. I’ll catch fleas if I don’t have a bath.”

He actually took a step away from her at that possibility. Sadie walked up to him, tapped him on the nose, and continued past him with an insolent sway of her hips.

Morgan fell into step beside her. And as they walked in companionable silence, Sadie thought about the history of this area.

Jean Lavoie’s diary mentioned that Jedediah Plum had visited camp number three for several days and had taken to wandering off at night. But he was always back in his bunk each morning, which meant the prospector hadn’t traveled far.

Jean had followed him once but had lost his trail when Jedediah’s footprints had become mixed with the tracks the horses had made that day hauling logs. Jean also mentioned that he hadn’t been the only one stalking Jedediah that night.

But on the fourth morning the prospector had not returned. His body had been discovered sticking out of a snowdrift about a mile north of the logging camp.

“That’s it,” Sadie said, pulling Morgan to a stop so abruptly he stumbled backward.

“That’s what?” he asked.

Sadie brushed the hair from her face and shifted her bundle of clothes to her right arm. “I was thinking about Jedediah’s gold mine,” she said. “And when he died.” She looked around the forest they stood in. “It was near here, according to the cook’s diary I have.

Someplace just north of the logging camp.”

Morgan also looked around, frowning. “North? How far?”

Sadie shook her head. “The diary said about a mile or so but wasn’t specific. But I remember from my dad’s research that Jedediah’s body was found near the base of a cliff that was at least a hundred feet high. Only we were never able to find that cliff because we never knew where the logging camp was.”

She shot Morgan a bright smile. “Until now. Thanks to you and Faol, I can discover exactly where Jedediah’s body was found. And I’d bet my kayak that the old prospector died close to his gold mine.”

“A tall cliff?” Morgan whispered, looking north. “About a mile from camp?”

Sadie dropped her bundle of clothes and threw her arms around Morgan’s shoulders.

“Forget our swim,” she said with a laugh of excitement, hugging him tightly. “Let’s go north and look for that cliff.”

Morgan slowly untangled her arms from around his neck, setting her away from him. He bent down, picked up her clothes, and gently placed them back in her arms. He smiled at her, but his face was drawn, his expression tight.

“We have the rest of the week to look for that cliff,” he said, his voice even-toned. “After our swim.”

Sadie could only stare at Morgan, confused by his reaction. Why wasn’t he excited about this?

Morgan took hold of her hand again and started them walking down the mountain, west, away from where she really wanted to go. Sadie followed along meekly and thought about her pretend husband’s sudden change of mood.

With Mercedes’ hand firmly tucked into his,Morgan headed to where his magical stream ran into the Prospect River. Sweat broke out between his shoulders and ran in a trickle down his back. His right hand involuntarily curled into a fist, and his feet felt like stones as every step he took led him closer to the magical stream he wanted to keep secret from Mercedes.

Of all the hundreds of square miles in this valley, why did Plum’s accursed mine have to be located in his gorge? And why now, after all these years of searching with her father, did Mercedes have to be the one to find it?

Thedrùidh’s vision rose in his mind, and Morgan started to shake with the force of his thoughts. He released Mercedes so she would not feel his trembling. He walked ahead in silence, holding back branches for Mercedes when the trail became thick.

They broke from the woods and stepped onto a sandbar jutting into the magical stream.

Upstream the water rippled with gentle current over gravel worn smooth by time. But the stream’s path bent around the sandbar and eddied into a deep pool of calm water—

perfect for swimming, Morgan decided, and for making love to his wife.

Mercedes wasted no time. She dropped her bundle of clothes onto the sand and quickly followed it down, immediately unlacing her boots.

“Go away,” she told him succinctly, pulling off her boots and then her socks. Her hands went to the snap on her pants. “Find your own swimming hole farther downstream.”

Morgan pulled his sword from his back and set it on the ground, then unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, letting it fall beside his sword. Mercedes turned her head to discover he had not obeyed her order. She frowned at him.